


Insomnia

by talefeathers



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Arguing, Drabble, Gen, Swearing, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-14
Updated: 2017-10-14
Packaged: 2019-10-03 18:33:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17289230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/talefeathers/pseuds/talefeathers
Summary: Gansey likes to think of himself as a man not easily ruffled, but when a drunken Ronan wakes him in the middle of a rare night's sleep he has a hard time keeping his cool.





	Insomnia

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HumbleWaysideFlower](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HumbleWaysideFlower/gifts).



> Prompt: "Sorry, were you sleeping?" and "Don't be fucking rude" for either Les Mis or TRC

Gansey liked to think of himself as a man not easily ruffled. He did, however, suffer from insomnia, which made sleep a rather precious commodity that he very much preferred not to be robbed of once he’d laid hold of it. Thus, when he was wrenched from a deep unconsciousness by a loud crashing and an even louder “ _Shit!_ ”, ruffled is exactly what Gansey was.

“Ronan,” he groaned, and it sounded like he meant to say _Why?_

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Ronan said, his tone quite casual for someone who had just crashed gracelessly to the floor. “Were you sleeping?”

“Don’t be fucking rude,” Gansey snapped, already turning over and pulling his blanket over his head.

“Hey, watch your fucking language,” Ronan shot back, but Gansey could hear that he was smiling. Ronan loved it when he swore.

“What are you even doing in here?”

“I was looking for something.”

“The keys to the Pig.”

“I never said that.”

“I smell beer.”

Ronan huffed; Gansey bet he rolled his eyes, too.

“So what, am I grounded?” he asked, suddenly sharp – a bared switch-blade. Gansey resisted an urge to cover his ears.

“Never mind, forget I said anything,” he said. “Just go to bed, Ronan. Just drink some water and –”

“Yes, _dad._ ”

Gansey squeezed his eyes shut. Part of him (the ruffled part) wanted this to burst into a fight just as badly as Ronan did, but most of him knew such a fight would do neither of them any good with one party overtired and the other intoxicated. Gansey wasn’t a Lynch; he couldn’t hurt people just to hurt them.

“Please can we not do this right now,” he said.

“You started it, asshole!” Ronan shouted.

“Oh, what, by caring whether you’re about to drive drunk?” Gansey roared back, sitting up and facing Ronan at last. “By caring whether or not you kill yourself? In _my_ car?”

“God, you’re so fucking dramatic,” Ronan said.

“No, what I am is fucking tired,” Gansey shot back. “I am so, so fucking tired, Ronan, and all I want is some fucking sleep, but I can’t get that when I’m so worried about you!”

The silence that followed fell between them the way a pile of snow slides off a rooftop. Gansey sniffed and tried to surreptitiously wipe the tears that had jumped to his eyes.

“Nobody asked you to worry about me,” Ronan said, but there weren’t blades in his voice anymore.

“You’re my best friend,” Gansey answered, unable to make himself look up at Ronan’s face. “You don’t have to ask.”

Another silence, this one a bit softer.

“Shit,” Ronan muttered finally. “I’m going to bed.”

He shuffled to the door, then stopped and turned back to face Gansey.

“Get some sleep, okay?”

And though Ronan hadn’t said he was sorry, Gansey knew this was an apology. He nodded.

“Okay,” he said. “You too.”


End file.
